


Hold Me Tight

by 221Btls



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Cuddling & Snuggling, Developing Relationship, First Kiss, First Time, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Fluff and Smut, Huddling For Warmth, M/M, Sexual Content, Sherlock Being Sherlock
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-02
Updated: 2014-03-02
Packaged: 2018-01-14 08:06:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,339
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1259053
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/221Btls/pseuds/221Btls
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It is the coldest day on record in the history of London and the furnace in 221B goes out.  How will our boys stay warm?  I'll give you one guess.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hold Me Tight

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Burning_Up_A_Sun](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Burning_Up_A_Sun/gifts).



> How could I NOT gift this to you, Burning_Up_A_Sun? You give so much of yourself - your time, your talent, your limitless support; you've helped me so much and taught me so much. You are the BEST! *Hugs*
> 
> Hold Me Tight is off the Beatles With the Beatles album.

Bugger!

Stupid.  Stubborn.  Git!

John’s compact body tightened into a ball of fury. 

Arse! 

The last time.  The _last time_ he would save his sorry arse of a genius flatmate from himself.

He spun on his heel, the ice on the pavement slick, and stomped back to 221b.

*-*-*-*-*

“John.  Back so soon?”

“Yes, I…!  You are _going_ to Mycroft’s!  I don’t care if that’s not what you want; he’ll keep your sorry arse from freezing to death!”

“No.”

“No?  Just ‘no’?  Not good enough, Sherlock.” 

Sherlock lifted his chin defiantly.

“No.”

“Jesus, you’re as stubborn as a little kid.”

Sherlock huddled in his chair, visibly shivering despite the coat and three blankets.

One of the coldest days on record in Britain’s history and the buggering heat quit.   Giving out under the strain of the extreme temperatures, the building’s ancient boiler offered only a few last puffs of warm air before it died. 

“You, stupid…if you stay, I stay.  That’s all there is to it.  I refuse to come back to the flat in a few days to a human popsicle, which is what you’ll be.”

He saw Sherlock’s eyes soften; saw in them the gratefulness that his flatmate wouldn’t leave him alone in the otherwise empty building.  Everyone else’s common sense told them to go to friends’ or families’ homes still blessed with the comfort of heat.  But no, not Mr. Sherlock Holmes.  Not Mr. I’m-Immune-To-Mother-Nature’s-Whims. 

“Well, we’ll do what we can to keep warm until furnace repair gets here; you’re already about to turn blue. I’ll get the rest of the wood for the fire, but you do know, don’t you, it won’t last even one night?”

Sherlock’s teeth chattered.  “Get the covers from your room and the couple left in mine.  If we don’t fit the wood too tightly in the fireplace, the fire will breathe better, making it burn longer.  If we run out we can use the desk, but…”

“No, Sherlock, _no_ turning our furniture into kindling!”

“What I intendedto say, before you interrupted me…”  He glared at John, “… instead of resorting to that extreme, sharing body heat …”

“Uhh, nope.  No body heat Sherlock.  I’ll stay here and keep you warm the best I can, but crawling in with my flatmate is not an option.  Nope.”

“Let me finish.  Sharing body heat illustrates one of the more important survival techniques Admiral Byrd utilized in his polar explorations and if it suited his purposes, I daresay it will suffice for two Londoners who only require assistance for a day or two.”

John didn’t even know what to say to that.  He knew Sherlock had few physical boundaries when it came to his flatmate, but to suggest they actually sleep together… well, that was aces even for _him_.  He couldn’t say it was a _bad_ idea, just…just unusual.

Sherlock watched passively while the doctor processed his suggestion.  There could not be a more straightforward and logical solution. 

“We’ll move the chairs, bring my mattress in front of the fire and simply share the covers.  We don’t have to…” Sherlock grimaced faintly as if puckering on a lemon, “..snuggle.” 

John considered his options - go along with Sherlock’s half-arsed idea or spend who knew how many hours trying to convince the stubborn git to go to his brother’s.  He made up his mind.  He would rather give up a little modesty than see them freeze to death while they figured out what to do.  After all, what could laying on the same mattress hurt?  To make things clear, his finger pointing at the detective emphatically, “NO snuggling.  Got it?”

“Believe me, it is the last thing on my mind.”  The horror on Sherlock’s face almost made John laugh.

Twenty minutes later Sherlock’s mattress lay on the floor in the living room.  A mound of blankets and duvets covered them as they lay on opposite sides of the bed, hugging the edges in their care not to touch each other, the fire crackling soothingly in their ears as they fell asleep.

*-*-*-*-*

Mmmmmmm

John’s brain hovered in the euphoria that existed between sleep and wakefulness, his body languid in the warm cocoon enveloping him.  His arm wrapped around a big, long pillow, he couldn’t say when he had ever felt quite so comfortable.  Quite so at ease.

As his mind slowly became aware of its surroundings, he realized his cock was awake, too, as it pressed against something warm and firm and rounded…Sherlock’s bum. 

Shit bugger fuck

John lay as still as he could, trying to figure out how to move without waking up the detective.  There was no way, _no way_ , he wanted Sherlock to know he doubled as a pillow.  Let alone that John sported a bloody hard-on.

His cock straining painfully at his jeans, he took a panicked breath.  ‘Calm down, Watson, he’ll never have to know.’

Carefully sliding his arm off the man sleeping beside him, he heard That Voice. 

“Where are you going, John?  The fire died down hours ago and judging by the crystallized particles in the air, the heat is not yet back on.  Obviously.”

“Uhh, just scooting over a bit.  The no snuggling rule, remember?”

“Of course, I remember.  We’re pooling our thermal energies to keep our body temperatures above the 95 degrees required for survival, not snuggling.  Really, John, I thought you understood that.”

“I do, but, uhh, Sherlock, doesn’t this make you uncomfortable?  I mean I know you’re not one for touching and all that.”

“Stop being so puritanical and go back to sleep, John.  Your body uses less energy when you’re asleep.”

John sighed.  Maybe Sherlock didn’t notice the solid rod thrust up against his bum.  Maybe in his inexperience he didn’t even know what it was.

John could only hope.

*-*-*-*-*

Mmmmmmmm

John fitted himself more closely to the warm body wrapped in his arms, wrinkling his nose at the loose curl tickling it.  In his sleepy haze he didn’t remember bringing anyone home with him the night before, but this was nice.  Very nice.

Nicer yet, the hand caught between their two bodies stroked his crotch.  Getting hard, the pressure against his jeans eased as the zipper moved down; a finger slipped into the breach, his pants the only barrier to his cock.  Nice.  Very nice.  A small moan of pleasure escaped as he pushed his hips into the finger, encouraging more fingers to join it.

“John?”

John snapped the rest of the way awake, his body stiffening.  Not just anyone. Sherlock, then.  What in the _hell_ was he doing?

In the calmest voice he could muster, “What the _hell_ are you doing?!”  Not calm enough.

“Don’t you like it?  You seemed to until you woke up.”

“Yes, I…yes I do like it.  But that’s not the _point_ , is it Sherlock?  What the hell are you doing playing with my cock?”  He opened his eyes and stared at the face inches away from his, the clear gaze looking at him in puzzlement.

“Well, if you must know, the Finnemore case still baffles me.  Testing my theory of how long it takes to reach maximum arousal in REM sleep, I found you to be a convenient test subject, so I…”

The death threat on John’s face shut him up.  For a moment.

“You said no snuggling; you didn’t put any other perimeters on what we could or could not do so naturally I assumed….”

In that moment, seeing the consternation on Sherlock’s face, the confusion at just what he had done wrong _now_ , John realized just why he was so fond of his flatmate.  Yes, fond, he admitted.  The pixie mix of blazing intelligence and innocence was too strong for him to ignore.  

“And what do you conclude?”  John asked gently, unable to fault Sherlock for being exactly as God designed him.

Hesitating, unsure if it was safe to proceed, Sherlock told him, “Because you woke up, I did not form a definitive conclusion, but a secondary response presented itself that I must say I am quite intrigued by.”

“And what would that be?”

Keeping his eyes on John, Sherlock took John’s hand in his and guided it to his own groin, where John could feel the erection that mirrored his.

“Oh.”  John cleared his throat, too startled to pull his hand away.  “And just what do you conclude from _that?_ ”

“I…if you don’t mind, I would like to gather more data. Would that be…permissible?”

Looking at the earnest hope on Sherlock’s face, John bit his lip, berating himself for one more time giving in to what Sherlock wanted.

“It’s for _science_?”

“Yes, John.  What other reason could there be?”

“I don’t know, I just thought, maybe, you might, I don’t know, be thinking something else.”

“No, John, nothing else comes to mind.”

John giggled, “You said ‘comes’.”

“Such childishness does not become you.  Yes or no?”

Taking a deep breath, John gathered his courage and said, “Have at it.” 

Closing his eyes, John felt Sherlock resume his exploration, pulling down John’s jeans and pants just enough to give him easy access, the wished for extra fingers now a reality.  A large palm wrapped around him, the sensation bringing him to a full erection.  His own hand still resting on Sherlock’s crotch, he felt his flatmate’s erection nudge the satin bottoms, twitching toward him. 

He would have to agree with Sherlock, the secondary reaction was intriguing.

John laid waiting, nothing happening, wondering what Sherlock would do next.  And though there was nothing in particular that came to mind, it was still unexpected.  And unexpectedly pleasurable.

Pillowy lips touched his lightly, as if a butterfly about to take flight.  John didn’t stir, afraid he would scare the butterfly away. 

Once again Sherlock feared doing wrong, but the lack of cursing or yelling told him on some level this must be acceptable.  Pressing his lips to John’s he was rewarded with an open mouth seeking his in response.  

‘Rewarded?’ Sherlock thought.  ‘Where did that come from?  Data collection, Holmes. Data col…lec…’  He melted into John’s mouth, forgetting the point of the experiment as his mind wandered to more pressing matters, like the mouth that sought his tongue out, sucking it, causing him to tingle and throb everywhere he could tingle and throb.

“But John,” he mumbled, his mouth mostly full.  “The experiment.”

“What experiment, Sherlock?  You mean this one?”  John collected a generous amount of saliva, slicking it on the palm he brought to his mouth.  Putting Sherlock’s hand back where it had been, leading it up and down his shaft until guidance was no longer needed.

Sherlock slowly huffed a warm breath of air into John’s face, his pleasure too great to contain in his body.  “Yes, that one,” he agreed, not quite sure what he was agreeing to, but whatever John said was just fine.  Just fine.

Three Continents Watson.  John’s nickname had followed him around the world, but the kiss he resumed with Sherlock was unusual. So tender, so _easy,_ so…would it be wrong to call it ‘loving’?  Whatever one called it, he wanted more.  More of Sherlock’s mouth.  More of Sherlock’s strong hand on his cock.  More of the scent of the man who was, more than usual, driving him batty.

John palmed the back of Sherlock’s head, bringing his flatmate impossibly closer, tangling his fingers in the tumultuous curls.  His other hand cupped Sherlock’s jawline, his thumb teasing the obscenely full bottom lip. 

Thrusting his cock into Sherlock’s hand, his heart pounded wildly in his chest; he feared he might at any moment have a heart attack.  And just as he was about to explode, for some inexplicable reason his brain started working again and he pulled away from the detective, panting heavily.

“Jesus, Sherlock, I’m such a prick.”

“It’s fine, I...I find kissing you most interesting. If you’re worried, technically, we’re still not snuggling.”

“No, no.  I’m not worried about snuggling.  I think that ship’s sailed, don’t you?  No, I’m being a selfish git.  Here.” 

John put his own palm to his mouth and just as he had with Sherlock’s hand, slicked it with a generous dollop of saliva.  Staring into Sherlock’s intent eyes, the wet palm went back down between them. Instinctively knowing where it was going, Sherlock lowered his own bottoms, gasping when John’s hand firmly clasped his member. 

As John stroked Sherlock, watched Sherlock’s eyes flutter shut, saw his mouth open into a wide 'O’ and his head tilt back, John felt a depth of desire he’d never known.  It went beyond lust; it went beyond all physical pleasure.  It was about his desire to please someone he truly cared about.

“Come here, love.”

John nudged his arm under Sherlock’s head, prompting Sherlock to tightly wrap his arms around the soldier.  Mouths desperately met once again, as if the oxygen the two men required for survival was contained within each other’s bodies.    

Sherlock lost himself to the firm grip pumping him, his body soon stiffening, then shuddering.  So close had John been to coming earlier, he quickly went over the edge when he heard Sherlock’s deep moan of release, felt the warm rush of come on his hand.

“Oh, fuck” John said moments later, gulping deep breaths of air.

He lay there, gazing at Sherlock’s face, watching as his breathing slowed.  He didn’t think he’d ever seen so lovely a sight.  Gently framing Sherlock’s face with his hand, he asked, “You alright?”

Sherlock’s eyes flew open, their vibrant blue alive with happiness as they pierced into John.  Instead of speaking, he answered by softly resting his lips on John’s, kissing him.  Stuffing a wad of sheet between them to shield against the cooling come, he nestled into the warm body beside him and sighed.

“I’ll take that as a ‘yes’,” John chuckled, folding his new lover into his arms.

Content with where he rested, as he was about to fall asleep Sherlock made himself a mental note - Must reattach furnace wire hidden under skull.


End file.
